


There is a Light

by Shorm (Bdoing)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Guns, M/M, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Shorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based pretty heavily on the movie adaptation of The Mist by Stephen King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a Light

Scott assumed they had seen it all by the time they had been drowned and revived, by the time he had become an Alpha. But the mist that started rolling in -- they had no idea where it even came from, it wasn't in any way normal -- that was new. And it wasn't the good sort of new.

His best friend since they were in diapers kissing him -- that was new, too. But that was the good sort of new -- that was the "getting over his ex-girlfriend" kind of new. Except that it happened at the same time as the fog rolling in, and an exasperated Stiles (lying in bed, both of them shirtless but not yet brave enough to lose the pants, twirling Scott's hair around his fingers) had to explain to him that no, he didn't need to be protected even more now that they were together. Yes, he appreciated the thought. No, it wasn't necessary, because he didn't want his boyfriend (they both went red in the face at the word) to die while Stiles was still a virgin. And besides, the fog rolling in was probably attracted by their ritual -- that meant it was magical and probably powerful, not that it was evil. At least not necessarily. (Scott's eyes flashed, sure he'd tricked Stiles into admitting it was evil, and Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned back, groaning.)

So the next morning, when they were out in the Jeep, filling up the tank en route to breakfast, and the fog suddenly thickened, Scott ignored the screaming of his werewolf instincts telling him that danger was here. He was sitting in the Jeep, trying not to stare too obviously at his boyfriend's ass (he went bright red again, somewhat ruining his efforts at keeping a straight face, although at this point straight wasn't _really_ in the picture), and everything was fine.

And then he heard the scream. And nothing was fine.

He whipped around, eyes already turning red, and his mouth dropped open, revealing quickly-forming fangs.

The mist was so thick now that Scott couldn't see more than a few feet-- and at the next car, the dude filling up his gas tank had what Scott could swear was the tentacle of a giant octopus or a squid or something wrapped around his waist, and he was screaming, louder than Scott had heard anyone but Lydia scream before. And then, as Stiles opened the door and stuck his key in the ignition all in one (probably rather practiced) movement, the tentacle withdrew into the fog, carrying the screaming man with it -- and a second later, as they peeled out of the station, the screaming just... Stopped. Abruptly.

"What the fuck was that!?", Scott screamed, his voice coming out at a much higher pitch than he wished it had.

"What, like I know?" Stiles kept his eyes on the road, but they were much wider than they usually were.

"Stiles, we have to go help him!”

"I think he's beyond saving, Scott. Usually you stop.... Usually they can't be saved once they stop screaming."

"But I have to try!" Scott closed his eyes, head against the headrest of the seat, eyes closed, angry at himself for ignoring his instincts.

Once they were far enough away that the mist was thinner again, Stiles stopped at a red light, leaned over, and kissed Scott's forehead. "You can't save everyone. Just focus on the asses you've saved over and over again. Like mine, for example! Focus on my ass."

Even distraught, Scott couldn't help but sputter and smirk at that.

"Okay, now. Let's go find our parents," Stiles said, twisting back into his seat as the light turned green again, leaving one hand on Scott's lap.

\-----

Their first stop was Scott's place -- it was on the way to Stiles' place. They didn't exactly have a plan beyond 'get everyone out of town', but that was, honestly, enough at the moment. Scott would get in touch with Deaton, and he would know exactly what to do, know exactly what was going on.

The fog was still thin when they got to Scott's house, but it was getting thicker, and Scott's mind was screaming at him to get the _fuck_ out of there. He barrelled into the house, screaming for his mother -- but he could hear her scream as soon as the front door opened, and without a second thought -- and without even hearing Stiles scream _Scott, don't!_ \-- Scott dashed into the kitchen, shifting while he ran.

His mother was on the floor with a cast-iron frying pan between her and a huge, spidery monster's dripping jaws; it was trying to get at her, but she was quick enough, and scared enough, that it hadn't gotten past the frying pan yet.

"Scott! Oh thank God," she said, and the spider turned to face this new, pan-less prey, mandibles clicking together.

It was a lot easier to deal with than Scott expected -- one pounce, one swipe across the midsection, and he was covered in giant spider guts. He turned immediately to his mother, who was still lying on the ground. Are you okay?" he asked, completely ignoring the mess.

"I'm fine, but Scott -- that wasn't the only one, we've gotta get out of h--"

" _Scott!_ " came Stiles' voice from the foyer, and before Melissa could even manage to finish her sentence, her son had run to save his best friend. Boyfriend. Whatever the two of them were now.

By the time Melissa walked out into the foyer, a messy Scott was hugging a shaking Stiles close enough to him that she was pretty sure it was the latter. She would have to talk to him about Stiles sleeping over anymore, when they got through whatever hell had found itself in Beacon Hills this month.

(She idly considered moving, but realized there was no way that her son would ever agree to it.)

"Okay, here isn't safe. Where are we going?" she asked.

A slightly-red (and slightly-goopy) Stiles pulled away from Scott, dragged his hands through his hair, and let out a long breath. "I have no idea where Dad is right now. There's no way he's home right now, not with all this going on."

Scott pulled out his cellphone. "And whatever this fog is, I've got no signal." He looked between his boyfriend and his mother, both with grim faces and both a few shades greener than they normally were.

"So, we drive."

\---

Scott stayed behind the wheel, because he was pretty sure Stiles was too preoccupied to drive without his mind drifting off, and his Mom was too shaken to even remember where she left her keys.

As they got back to the car, Stiles went even whiter, and ran to the side of the Jeep before moving back up to the passenger door. "I forgot to close the tank. We might be running on fumes."

Scott reached in, terrified, and they let out a collective breath as the car started -- they still had a half-tank. Far from what they wished they had, but it should get them far enough out of Beacon Hills to get out of the mist. They piled in and drove off, driving slowly to avoid hitting something in the thick fog.

\---

Lydia's house was their first stop, since she lived between Scott and the downtown core,  where the Sheriff was most likely to be. They didn't even need to get out of the car to see that there was no point in going inside -- the same giant spiders that had taken up residence in the McCall home were climbing all over the outside of the house, and the front door was open, with thick webbing stretching across it. Scott silently hoped that they had gotten out before the webbing went up, and drove away, his throat catching.

\---

Alison's condo was much better off, but as soon as they pulled to a stop outside, they heard a monstrous scream from the mist down the street, and a tentacle whipped out, hitting the ground next to them; they peeled away. The lump in Scott's throat had turned out to be a lead weight, and had made its way to his stomach, which currently felt like it was hanging out somewhere around his knees. They were 0 for 2.

\---

When they hit 0 for 4, standing outside Derek and Isaac's apartment and listening to the fire crackle, Scott was beginning to get desperate. They had been driving for a while now, and had wound a route through the downtown core, hoping to find some hint of Sheriff Stilinski. Some time between Allison's and the loft, Scott had abandoned all pretense and reached over to grab Stiles's hand; after a quick glance to make sure Scott was sure (and an embarrassed glance at Melissa's happy-but-smug smile in the back seat), Stiles leaned over and let his head rest on Scott's shoulder. Scott's heart beat fast and hard enough that he was sure that even with their normal hearing, Stiles and his mom had to be able to hear it, but neither of them said a word.

His whole life was in this Jeep or missing. He needed to get them to safety.

Without a word, he turned onto the highway out of town, the high-pitched roar of monsters in the gigantic Target by the on-ramp making them all shudder. Melissa was still just sitting in the back, teary-eyed.

As they slowly passed by the ghostly sign marking the town's limits, Scott quietly cursed, prompting Stiles to look up. "I thought this mist would go away when we got out of town," Scott said. "I need to call Deaton. There's no way he doesn't know what's going on."

"Deaton? Your boss?" Melissa asked, shaking her head like she'd been lost in thought, and wiping a tear away from the crook of her nose. "Why would he know?"

Scott and Stiles exchanged a glance. "He's kind of, um... Well, he knows a lot about this sort of stuff, that's for sure," Scott said, after a pause.

"Oh."

There was only a beat of silence, and then the 'low gas' light made a _ping!_ noise as it turned on. Stiles swore, and Melissa gasped, a hand shooting to her mouth. Scott's jaw just strengthened, though, and he pushed down on the gas the tiniest bit more, so he could feel like they were moving at least a bit faster. They needed to get out of this fog!

The next hour was almost silent, but as they drove, the fog got thicker, not thinner, and they didn't see any indication of any gas stations -- and none of them had any idea where they were, or wanted to risk getting off the highway and circling around back towards town. They were stuck on their course, and their course was coming to an end - the blinking light was seeming more insistent, beeping at them every few minutes as they crawled. Finally, the engine sputtered, bumped forward a few more feet, and died.

There was silence again for a few minutes, and then Scott cleared his throat as a monster passed by overhead -- whatever it was, it had six legs the size of tree trunks, and was so high up that they could only vaguely see the underside of its body through the thick mist. "So... Now what?"

"We're fucked," Stiles says. "We're going to die, and we're going to die screaming in terror and probably shitting ourselves. We’re going to die, Scott."

He looked up, and Scott reached up to hold his face with one hand, squeezing his hand with the other. "Don't say that. We can't know that yet."

"Scott, we both know you way too well for you to lie to us," his mother said from the backseat. There wasn't even a waver in her voice.

Scott bit his lip. "Okay, I don't believe it. But I can pretend to, and that's almost the same thing, right?"

Stiles shook his head, swallowed, and sighed. "God, I love you."

Scott went bright red, very carefully refused to look at his mother, and, softly, said "I love you, too."

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, before Stiles flipped on the radio -- which, surprisingly enough, worked. They flipped through channels a bit before deciding, in lieu of the news (none of which seemed to be covering this mist), on a music station that played alternative rock, the only genre the three of them could agree on as acceptable. Billie Joe Armstrong crooned at them while they sat in silence, contemplating their fate.

After a few minutes that stretched into what felt like hours in the heavy atmosphere, Stiles flipped open the glove compartment, and grabbed the pistol sitting on top of various papers. Ignoring the shocked protests from the McCalls, he flipped it open and swore at what he saw.

"Stiles, don't you think that's a bit drastic?" Scott asked, at the same time that Melissa quietly asked if there were enough bullets.

Scott looked to his mother; if even she'd given up hope, he couldn't pretend he had any left. He held out a hand for the gun, swallowing the voice inside of him that said _no, someone is going to save us_.

Stiles placed it in his hands and cleared his throat. "We bit off more than we could chew, man. This is bigger than we can deal with. At least this is quick, but..."

He talked off, and a cover of the Smiths filled the silence.

_Driving in your car, I never ever want to go home, because I haven't got one, oh, anymore._

"But?"

"There are only two bullets. Someone gets the long death."

"Me." The word was out of his mouth before he had even begun to process what Stiles had just said, but it had to be him. The Captain went down with the ship, the Alpha went down with the pack.

"Scott, I can't--"

"Mom." His voice cracked. He took a second to steady himself.  

_And if a double-decker bus, if it crashes into us -- to die by your side, oh what a heavenly way to die..._

"Mom, he's right."

"I know he is. I can't ask you to do this, but I'm proud of you." The first tear rolled down her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away. "You're a hundred times better a person than I could ever hope to be, and a thousand times stronger, and I love you. Please, just do it, before I start crying, I don't want you to have to see me--"

The gun going off in his hands hurt, but not as much as Scott knew it should have. His aim was true, though, and he felt his mother’s blood hit him in the face, warm and wet. She fell with a slump, her eyes wide, head half-open.

_To die by your side, well, the pleasure -- the privilege -- is mine._

Stiles stared at Scott, mouth wide open.

Scott almost dropped the gun -- it was burning him, he realized, but he didn’t dare drop it; he wouldn’t be able to pick it back up again, and he needed to make sure that if Stiles wasn’t going to be able to make it through this, that his death was as painless as possible.

Stiles reached out and cradled Scott’s hands. He pecked him on the cheek, then -- tears silently streaming down his face -- he helped lift the gun up to his face. He paused for a moment.

“I love you. And I don’t think I need to say anything more.”

“I love you, too.” _Bang._

The recoil hit Scott’s bruised and burnt hands harder the second time, but he still didn’t drop the gun -- while Stiles’s lifeless body hit the shattered and bloodstained window, Scott turned the gun towards him, put the end in his mouth, and frantically pulled the trigger, hoping for an ending, hoping for anything that wasn’t the damned click click click of the gun’s laughter.

_And if a ten-tonne truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well..._

He screamed, wordlessly, screams of pure anguish and anger. He punched through the windshield, opened the door, and screamed at the sky, something that was meant to be a challenge to the invisible monsters hiding in the mist, something that was meant to bring them to him, something that might take him away from the bodies in his dead boyfriend’s broken-down Jeep.

Instead, he heard the rumbling of a truck, one that passed by him.

One that he could see in the clearing mist.

One carrying a flatbed full of scared people out of Beacon Hills. He stared at the people, unwilling to believe the timing. Unable to believe that Allison, Lydia, and Isaac were standing on the truck, unable to even react when they jumped off the edge, unable to process their horror at the corpses standing behind him.

He honestly didn’t know when he’d be able to react to anything again.

_There is a light that never goes out,_

_There is a light that never goes out,_

_There is a light that never goes out..._

 


End file.
